


The first time Yuri got drunk

by ScribblesInTheMargins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homophobia, Tourmaline - Freeform, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/pseuds/ScribblesInTheMargins
Summary: When Yuri was 16 he had finished his first year in seniorsWhen Yuri was 16 his grandfather disowned him.When Yuri was 16 all he thought he had left was Potya





	The first time Yuri got drunk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puppysicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/gifts).



Silver at Worlds -- it was an end to an incredible first year in the senior circuit of skating. Three golds and three silvers were impressive -- less so when you were grabbing them and shoving them into a bag with dirty laundry. He wasn't leaving them here though.

Yuri looked around the room ... not his room, at least not anymore. Nothing left here mattered. Potya was complaining from her carrier, but there was nothing else to be done about that. Everything hurt. Practice had been brutal, but it wasn't the huge bruise taking over his entire thigh that made him take another drink from the bottle.

Agape. He had known it was a lie. Unconditional love. Fucking Victor. God damn fucking Victor. This is what he got for believing that asshole's lies.

Slinging Potya's carrier on one shoulder, his skate bag on the other, he left the room as he pulled his suitcase behind him. He walked past his grandfather's door, not even saying goodbye. Why should he? He had been told to get out.

He was a disappointment. He was just like his mother -- a stain on the family name. He wasn't going to cry though. He just left, walked away. Maybe that was all his family was good at. The streets of St. Petersburg were covered in dirty snow. The grit of the winter mixed with the fresh flakes to make everything a uniform grey.

He wasn't cold, even in his jacket that was much too light with how the March wind was brutally whipping off the ocean. Another gulp from the bottle and he didn't even feel the wind.

Two buses and the bottle was close to empty. It was getting harder to think. His body felt so heavy, as if he'd never again fly over the ice. What was the point? He was a disappointment to his family and his country. Why should he skate? Why should he do anything? He kept walking now, not for him, but for those plaintive mews from the carrier. Even with her long fur, Potya was cold.

Another five blocks and he was there, looking up at the beautiful house. He was trash, he had no business here, but Potya deserved this. She was the best cat in the world. It was for her that he rang the bell even though now it was 11 at night.

When no one answered, he rang it again and again. She had to be home. He could hear Potya crying in her carrier as he dropped to his knees in front of the door. The world was spinning and so cold. The bottle was empty now, and without that burn, he was feeling how cold the Russian winter was when you were kicked out. He didn't care about himself anymore, it was only for Potya that he even raised his hand to knock, unable to reach the bell from where he had collapsed.

He looked into the carrier, seeing those innocent eyes looking back at him as she mewed again, the soft plaintive sound striking him until he cried, pulling her carrier close to try and shelter her from the wind with his own body.

 

* * *

 

When Lilia opened the door a few minutes after the last ring of the doorbell, that was how she found Yuri -- passed out, an empty bottle of vodka at his feet, but Potya's carrier gripped to his body as if she were the only thing that mattered. His face streaked with tears.

She had no idea what had happened to the boy, but she knew she had to get him inside. She might be old, but she was far from weak. Potya and the suitcase were pulled inside, and then as she let Potya out of the carrier, the cat did not run to the warmth of inside but stayed close to Yuri as he was pulled into the entryway.

Lilia knelt by the boy's side, feeling how cold his cheeks were, the wind and tears leaving the tender flesh frostbitten. She had no idea what had happened, but at the moment, her heart burned with rage. How anyone could have hurt Yuri like this...

Two hours later, Potya still mewing around the sitting room, Lilia sat on the floor of the powder room, surrounded by what felt like an inescapable scent of vomit as she braided Yuri's hair. She'd been holding the long blond locks back for the past hour. Deftly her fingers placed his hair in a french braid, pulling the elastic from her own hair to tie his back. He hadn't been able to tell her what was wrong yet, just tears and throwing up -- so much throwing up. She didn't care about the mess, or that she had sent a message to the maid who normally came once a week. What she cared about right now was the boy who had passed out once again, this time his head in her lap

By noon, she had Yuri sitting on the couch under a blanket, a large bowl near him just in case, but he hadn't thrown up again in the past hour. She knelt next to the couch, her thin fingers reaching out to brush a shorter strand of hair from his face that hadn't been captured by the braid. "Shush, try to drink this." A cup of tea was in her other hand.

Her heart broke though as he just shook his head. "I … don't deserve…"

"What happened? Who did this to you?" She had never seen him so broken. She had seen numb. She had seen hurt. She had seen rage -- but this was different. This was broken. It scared her, and Lilia had never been scared like this.

Somehow, those delicate shoulders slumped even more. Without the fire, Yuri seemed smaller. Without the presence that he radiated on the ice, his small body, better suited to dance than skating seemed weak. "I …"

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for this kindness to end, to end up kicked out again. He could live with that, but there was one thing he couldn't live with, "Whatever I say, please, please, promise Potya can stay? She's a good cat. She loves you. She'd be a good girl for you, I promise?"

The desperation took Lilia by surprise, but she couldn't say no to him, looking into those beautiful but heartbreaking blue-green eyes she nodded, "Of course." She didn't explain there was no way he wasn't staying as well. Not with how the thought of him stepping out that door tore at her heart.

Nodding, bracing for rejection, Yuri looked at her, tears threatening to overflow his eyes as he admitted his secret to her, "I'm … gay."

"Oh, baby…" It all made sense now. Of course, she had suspected. She knew the rejection and hate so many of her friends and fellow dancers had had to endure. She just wrapped him up in her arms, pulling him close, his head to her chest as she didn't let go of him.

"My little Yura, shhhh. You will stay here." She had already sent a message to Yakov that Yuri was with her and not skating today. "As long as you want or need, you stay here. Your room is upstairs. This is your home now."

As the boy fell asleep crying again, she held onto him, clutching him tight to her. How anyone could have thrown this child away...  Her expression changed to one of rage. Never again would anyone throw him away. To have been blessed with a child, especially one as precious as Yuri and to have thrown him away -- no, Lilia was not having it. She would protect him and whoever tried next to hurt the boy had best believe in God; because they would need divine intervention to face her wrath. Yuri was now hers. All his rage, sulking, loud music, and competitiveness; he was hers now. She had asked for his soul, and he had given it. The truth was though, he had taken her heart in the process.


End file.
